Page 123 of Come Break My Heart Again

“I know. But you’re busy, and Ryder asked to borrow some tools for a project at Reese’s. Figured I’d drive them over myself, help out a bit.”

“Okay,” Keira replies. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye. Later, ladies!”

“Who’s Reese?” Ophelia asks once Tucker walks out of the kitchen.

“She’s a friend of Tucker’s,” Keira responds.

“And Ryder’s?”

I glance at Ophelia. I thought her interest in Ryder had waned following the weekend on Martha’s Vineyard. Now, I’m not as sure. I’m not close enough to Ophelia to ask, and I’m too close to Keira to avoid her reading into it. Which she will, even though I haven’t shared the news that I’m single yet.

“Mmhmm. They all grew up together.” Keira’s attention is on her laptop screen. “What do we think about ‘Dancing Queen’?”

“A classic,” Ophelia says. “Definitely put it on the list.”

After taking a first pass at the seating chart and choosing pale pink for the napkins, we’re working on the reception playlist.

I glance out the window at the cute house next door. Keira lived in an apartment downtown when she first moved back to Fernwood, only buying this place six months ago. It’s a bungalow, one of the few more modest homes in the residential section of town. On the far fringes of the One zip code.

This is the first time I’ve been back in Fernwood since Ryder’s return. Part of me thought it would feel different. That the air would have changed. That I’d be able to sense his presence somehow.

It felt strange, not heading to the trailer park first. I’ve respected Nina’s wishes and stayed away since she called me.

I miss her. I mailed her more tea a couple of weeks ago. But I can’t call or visit without risking Ryder finding out about mytrips to see his mom. And if we were in a friendly, cordial place, that might not be so bad. Instead, we’re in a place that has me hanging on for dear life.

Two hours later, we’ve finalized the playlist and migrated into the living room.

I head into the kitchen to use the bathroom that juts off it and top off my wine. A male voice sounds as I’m washing my hands. Tucker must be back, which is probably my cue to leave. I only stopped at my parents’ house briefly to drop off Scout, and I have been delaying heading back there ever since. I haven’t told them about the breakup with Prescott either. My mom will be disappointed because she wants to plan my wedding as soon as possible. My dad will be bummed about losing his golf buddy.

Footsteps sound as I’m adding another inch of rosé to my glass.

When I turn around, Ryder is standing in the doorway. My entire body reacts. My palms start sweating, and my heart starts sprinting, and my stomach starts flipping.

Will I ever be able to look at him and just feel … normal? All signs point to no.

We haven’t spoken since I called him the night Prescott broke up with me. And that conversation didnotend on a civil note.

“I was at Reese’s,” he says before I can speak a word.

“Yeah. Tucker mentioned.”

“No. I mean—yes, I was there tonight. I also went over there last Friday. That’s where I was when you called.”

“Cool. Thanks for the update.”

I’ve sipped one glass of wine all night, knowing I’ll have to drive home. But with Ryder staring at me—offering explanations I didn’t ask for—I swallow most of what I just poured.

“Yeah.You’re welcome.” He says it sarcastically, and I’m relieved. Civility is gone between us, and it’s like a whiff of fresh air after straight smog.

Being around Ryder has always made me feel safe. But it’s never been easy or comfortable. It’s always the edge of a cliff. Pure anticipation of what will happen between us next. What he’ll say. What he’ll do. What I’ll say. What I’ll do. It’s never predictable.

I hold up the empty wine bottle. “Doubt you wanted any, but it’s gone.”

I’ve never seen Ryder drink wine. Or hard liquor. He’s a beer guy.

He leans against the doorway, arms crossed, not even glancing at the wine. His attention is all on me, and it’s thrilling and terrifying and … temporary. “You didn’t graduate from Fernwood High?”

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